


O Fortuna

by wolborg



Series: Otabek Altin Week 2018 [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, DJ Otabek Altin, F/M, Freeform, M/M, Otabek Altin Week 2018, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 08:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolborg/pseuds/wolborg
Summary: Fate had a funny way of working things out in the end, even if it decided to take a few detours along the way.





	O Fortuna

**Author's Note:**

> SO UH. This is my first fic in a super long time. It's for the Otabek Altin Week day 4 prompt (AU + Favorite ship).

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Gentle fingers card through his thick dark waves, for once not tamed nor slicked back. “There’s always next season,” his mother tries to reason, urging him to keep up his dream. “Your foot has healed perfectly. You can get back out onto the ice and continue to skate.”

Wordlessly he stares ahead at the posters above his desk. Green eyes stare down at him haughtily. Once upon a time those eyes would challenge him to do better, to be better, to pick himself back up after falling and try again. Now he only sees an idol, someone he can never hope to stand beside on the podium, not when every battle feels more and more like failure.

Perhaps things are better this way. It isn’t like he has the courage to talk to Yuri anyway. Oh, there were several moments where their paths could’ve collided if Otabek would’ve had the courage. In Barcelona, at World’s that same season, at the Cup of China the next. Of course, there were more than enough chances at PyeongChang, even though he’d been cut before the free skate. They frequented the same scene, knew some of the same skaters. Otabek DJed at half a dozen parties that Yuri attended.

Still, the way things seem to pan out, they are like parallel lines, so close yet so far, never meant to cross.

“I’m sure. I think it’s time I settled and focused on my studies. Between healing and the current competition I… don’t think I stand much of a chance.”

There’s pity in her eyes when she looks at him. While he may not be the baby of the family, he is the youngest son, and his mother always tends to fret over him more than she ever did Serik. Sometimes he wonders how she was able to let him travel the world at such a young age, or if she worried every day he was gone.

All that is in the past now. He may not have accomplished what he originally set out to do, to stand with the boy with the soldier’s eyes, but he brought his people medals, brought them pride. Despite being young, it was time for the new generation to take over.

Sighing, she moves to press a kiss to his forehead. Her son was so stubborn, like his father. Now that Otabek made his decision, there’s no changing his mind. “Where will you study? Here? Astana? Toronto?”

Biting his lip, he finally manages to tear his gaze away from the posters. It’s a hopeless chance, it’s a big city, but maybe—

“St. Petersburg.”

Two months later, with his things shipped ahead of his arrival, he kisses his mother and sisters goodbye, fully intending to drive his bike from Almaty to St. Petersburg. Soul searching, he calls it, trying to find himself between hotels and views that are to die for, between the road and the starry sky above. Healing is what he needs, to convince himself he’s not a quitter nor a failure, to find a new north star to guide him, to ground him. It seems an impossible task, since every time his mind seems to wander it strays back to pretty green eyes and a wide, bright smile as gold upon gold is held between pale, thin fingers.

Otabek tries to cut ties. Several times he finds his thumb hovering over the unfollow button, though he can never go through with it. Even deleting the app doesn’t work. He lasts all of two days before it’s back on his phone and he’s posting pictures from his travels again. Part of him wants to blame Leo and JJ for his tolerance for social media, but he knows it’s really his ridiculous crush on a boy that probably doesn’t even know he exists that’s to blame.

Between sight seeing, driving and resting, it takes him nearly a week to reach St. Petersburg. Soul searching didn’t go exactly as planned, though he knew that might be the case. He’s still as hung up on Yuri as ever, still hasn’t found someone or something else to guide him and keep him focused. On the bright side, driving did help clear his head a little, gave him time to think of what he might want to do next.

As it turns out, his backup plan is just as risky as putting all his hopes in skating. Majoring in music likely won’t pay the bills, unless he manages to be one of the lucky ones, so he makes a backup plan for his backup plan. Majoring in teaching, too. The workload, he knows, won’t be easy to juggle, but at least he’ll keep busy and won’t have as much time to catch livestreams of competitions or check social media every day.

Like the rest of his best laid plans, that seems to go awry as well. Despite it all, the workload, the search for a steady part-time job that doesn’t require him to be up until three am every night like DJing does, Otabek is a weak man. During his breaks between classes, he catches up on Instagram before he’ll catch up on texts from family. When there’s a competition he sets his alarm clock just so he can see a certain blond skate. 

Madina thinks it’s unhealthy, and doesn’t hold her tongue about his pining whenever he makes the mistake of Skyping his family instead of simply calling. Deep down inside he knows she’s only telling the truth, knows he should move on from this pipe dream. Maybe it really is creepy that he can read Yuri like a book just by the tone of his twitter posts or the pictures he uploads on Instagram. 

Though he’s mellowed with age, Yuri is still a firecracker. His moods can still change like the wind. Otabek’s learned them well just from observation alone. Between trashy gossip magazines and rumors, he also knows when Yuri’s had another break-up just by reading between the lines. He knows Yuri’s louder when he feels like he’s being listened to, but not being heard, too. Otabek knows his favorite colors are shades of purple, knows his favorite tea is chamomile, knows he seems to enjoy dancing despite how much he complains about it. 

It isn’t like he’s stalking him, right? He hasn’t tried to track him down, nor engage him in any way other than following nearly all of his social media accounts. Only he did move to St. Petersburg on the off chance that maybe they would somehow run into each other and fate would work it’s magic. Which, putting all of that in perspective does prove Madina’s point, which makes him cringe.

He hates it when his older sister is right. Maybe it is a bit obsessive and weird. Maybe he does need to dial it back. Maybe he should let it all go and settle down with the girl that his mother’s been trying to introduce him to for three years now like a good son like Serik is. He never meant for it to get this bad. From idol worship to crush to a likely unhealthy, pining love that he’s not sure what to do about. 

If all of this wasn’t so mortifyingly embarrassing, he would turn to Leo or JJ for help. They at least still kept in touch with him, even if no one else did. But he fears the teasing, even if it was harmless. He’s too prideful for his own good, would rather suffer than feel like his friends didn’t take his emotions seriously. The thought of calling Serik crosses his mind. Instead, he sucks it up, deletes all of his SNS apps off of his phone in an attempt to squash the feelings that still made his chest ache.

With the apps gone, he only sees bits and pieces of Yuri. An advertisement here, a photoshoot in a magazine there. An interview on a morning show that plays on one of the TVs in the coffee shop. Sometimes when he DJs he swears he catches glimpses of Yuri’s golden hair in the crowd. The ache doesn’t dull, green eyes seem to haunt him.

Everything seems to go in slow motion with Yuri only a lingering presence in his life. Graduation comes and goes. Reluctantly he returns back to Almaty, though his beloved city does little to lift the heaviness that settles over him. His mother introduces him to Gulmira. She’s sweet, but she isn’t Yuri, nor does she cure the feeling that there’s something missing, something off about his life.

“I see she finally wore you down.” Serik plops down in an old metal chair in the driveway, watching Otabek work on his bike. The chair creaks when he leans back and crosses one leg over the other.

The only response he receives is an annoyed grunt, and he takes it as a sign that his little brother isn’t exactly a willing party in all of this. It brings back memories of his own engagement, of his parents, as much as he loved them, had expectations for all of them that seemed so hard to live up to.

“Don’t make the same mistake I did.” Not a warning, but a plea. Things were far better now than they were at the start of his marriage, but Otabek isn’t him. His little brother spent so much time with his head in the clouds, dreaming and achieving, traveling and seeing the world. “Why don’t you try actually talking to him?”

Otabek sighs and sits up, looking tired, as if he’s had this conversation before. “Madina says it’s unhealthy.”

“I love our sister, but she’s too much like our mother for her own good. I’ll support whatever you decide, but try to do something for yourself for once, not what we all expect from you.”

Chest heavy, Otabek wipes the grease off of his fingers with a rag. Serik giving into their parents’ expectations allowed him to travel, to skate, to bring home glory to their people. Yet he never escaped from all of the expectations, not his family’s nor his fan’s nor his country. Even now everything weighs so heavily on his shoulders like a burden he just can’t shake. Perhaps it’s because he feels he owes his mother for funding his skating career, for allowing him to pursue his education.

He and Gulmira marry in the spring. Serik gives him a knowing look, Madina seems pleased, and Adiya won’t meet his eyes. At least his mother seems happy.

The honeymoon period fades. Miserable is an understatement. Restlessness fills the void in his heart. Unsure of what else to do, he throws himself into a Master’s program. When he isn’t studying, he’s working, either at his father’s company, DJing, or putting together mixes. None of this is how he saw his life going. He thought he would have medals upon medals hanging on his wall and sharing an apartment with the love of his life, a dog and as many cats as Yuri’s heart desired. All of that seems so silly now. He isn’t a teenager anymore. He’s a married man with a good job, a hero to his country. Everything everyone wanted him to be.

Besides losing himself in his music, there is one bit of light among the darkness that threatens to consume him. It comes in the form of a sandy haired, hazel eyed little cherub, his son, Erasyl, born from an attempt to save an unhappy marriage. It seems to work on the surface, if only because Erasyl is one of the few things that gets Otabek to smile.

Sometimes late at night when it’s just Otabek and his music, he prays for a sign, something to show him whether or not he’s doing the right thing. There is nothing, nothing for what seems like a long while, until Adiya bursts through the front door with the biggest grin.

“Winter Universiade is in Almaty this year,” she announces, rocking on her heels.

Otabek glances up from his laptop and quirks a brow. “And?”

“And a certain Yuri Plisetsky is competing.” 

As soon as the words leave her lips he knows. This is his sign. Yuri will be here, in Almaty. He grins so wide that his cheeks hurt. Adiya can’t wipe the smile off her face either, because she hasn’t seen her brother this enthused about anything, barring Erasyl, since he retired from skating. She feels sorry for Gulmira, because she knows her brother gave his heart away at thirteen and never got it back.

Barely a week later, Otabek sits in a plush chair at the lawyer’s office, watching the ink dry on the papers finalizing the divorce. Unlike so many other things in his life, it’s amicable, easy, and she looks just as relieved as he does when their eyes meet across the table. 

They tried, even selfishly brought a son into the world in an attempt to give them both something to bring joy into the shared weight of so many expectations. Now, perhaps, was their chance to break free. Gulmira will have their house and enough money to enroll in the art program she’s always dreamed about, and he will have a lifelong friend, along with the courage to do what he should have done a long time ago.

As he walks out of the office it feels as though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders and he can finally breathe again, but his stomach is full of nervousness at the task that lies ahead.

The rink is packed, though it’s really no surprise. Adiya’s told him that rumors have swirled for months about Yuri retiring. Knowing that this could be one of the last times that they would see Yuri compete, people flocked to the competition. Otabek doesn’t even want to think of the figure skating world without Yuri Plisetsky.

Being the hero of Kazakhstan has its perks. The organizers throw a badge around his neck, allow him to wander rinkside and behind the scenes. Part of him wants to go and find Yuri now, though he knows it’s a terrible idea. He wouldn’t dare throw Yuri off his game. No, he’ll wait until after the short, and try his best not to lose his nerve.

When Yuri takes the ice, Otabek feels breathless. At twenty eight, Yuri still has all the grace and beauty he did at eighteen, though it’s matured and aged like a fine wine. On the ice, he’s even more entrancing to watch than he used to be, and Otabek finds that he can’t take his eyes off of Yuri no matter how hard he tries. Even when the routine is over and the crowd erupts into thunderous applause, Otabek stands there shell shocked and staring.

“What’s with you, asshole?”

Those aren’t the first words he hoped Yuri Plisetsky would say to him. They catch him off guard, so much so that all he can do is continue to stupidly stare until he forces himself to turn on his heel and walk off before he looks even more like an idiot in front of Yuri. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he retreats, and he can feel a pair of green eyes trying to bore a hole into the back of his skull.

After everything, Otabek never thought he would be trying to avoid Yuri Plisetsky. But here he is, riding aimlessly around the city and trying to forget the disaster from earlier. It works for a while, until he spots a flash of blond hair whip around a corner and go into an alleyway. Not two minutes later a gaggle of teenage girls show up, searching. He has two choices. Face his fears or leave Yuri to the wolves. Taking a deep breath, he circles the block and drives into the alleyway, stopping his bike in front of Yuri.

Yuri looks at him, startled. “You.”

Heart pounding, Otabek tosses him a helmet. “Get on.”

There’s no hesitation in the way Yuri shoves on the helmet and hops on the back of his bike. He feels an odd sense of pride for that, but he knows it’s probably because Yuri doesn’t want to get mauled by rabid fans. As soon as Yuri wraps his arms around his waist Otabek takes off, leaving the Angels in the dust.

“You’re a pretty hard guy to get a hold of,” Yuri huffs as soon as Otabek puts the bike in park and kills the engine. He hops off the back and takes off the helmet, shaking out his mane of long blond locks. “Like, fuck, I’ve been trying to find you for years.”

Otabek dismounts and takes off his helmet, trying not to stare as stupidly as he thinks he’s doing. “—What?”

Yuri hands him the helmet and tilts his head towards one of the park’s fountains before he walks off. After securing the helmets and the bike, Otabek follows, plopping down on the edge of the fountain next to Yuri.

The afternoon sun makes little rainbows in the mist the fountain gives off. Yuri’s sitting sideways, one long leg on the stone edge. His eyes are trained on the bubbling water, hair windswept and hanging in his face. The sight takes Otabek’s breath away.

“I remember you from PyeongChang, you know. You were the hot DJ at all the good parties. But it was always like you were avoiding me or something. I never got the chance to talk to you. Then you ghosted. And Leo and JJ are fucking assholes and wouldn’t tell me anything. The only thing you seemed to update was your soundcloud but that didn’t really give me any deets about you.”

Truthfully, Otabek wasn’t sure which was more shocking, the fact that Yuri thought he was hot or that Yuri actively listened to his soundcloud. The latter nearly made him cringe inwardly, since it meant that Yuri’s heard all of the sad depressing vent songs he’s uploaded. 

“And it was fucking stupid because I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since then.”

Something inside feels like the final piece of himself has slipped into place. He feels like he’s thirteen again and seeing Yuri for the first time. It makes his heart pound and his palms sweaty.

“It’s not stupid.”

Yuri blinks at him, taken aback. It’s clear that’s not what he was expecting.

“I’ve had a crush on you since I was thirteen. I saw you at Yakov’s summer camp. Your eyes. They were so determined, so focused. Like a soldier’s.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

Groaning, Yuri scrubs a hand down his face, then laughs. “We’re fucking idiots, you know that, right? If we had balls, we wouldn’t have been pining like morons for ten years.”

Otabek can’t disagree with that. They could’ve both ended their suffering at any time. Yet here they are now, sitting on the edge of one of Almaty’s many fountains at sunset. It was like something out of a romance novel; two soulmates and their near misses before they finally find each other.

“We’re here now,” he murmurs, hesitating slightly before he reaches over and tucks a lock of windswept hair behind Yuri’s ear. Yuri’s cheeks take on a pink tint and Otabek thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.” He bites his lip, then glances over to Otabek, a mischievous look in his eyes. “So are you gonna kiss me or not?”

With a laugh, Otabek leans in and grasps Yuri’s chin, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Later they’ll have to sit down and talk, figure things out; feelings, each other, the distance, and all of the messy, wonderful things that come with finally finding someone that makes them feel whole. But for now they have Almaty at sunset and the promise of something beautiful blossoming.

Fate had a funny way of working things out in the end, even if it decided to take a few detours along the way.

**Author's Note:**

> The siblings in order: Serik, Madina, Otabek and Adiya. At the start of the fic, Otabek is 21, Madina is 23, Serik is 24 and Adiya is 15.


End file.
